Bachelor - Feb 14 2025

 

Bachelor

Feb 14 2025

On formal occasions

my father sat at the head of the table,

presiding over us

like chairman of the board.

While my mother, at the other end

was steps from the kitchen,

gliding in and out

bearing steaming dishes

heaped with food.

Although the everyday table

when we ate in the kitchen

was round;

so most days

we were a democracy.

Even though my father had the final word;

the majority owner,

the Court of Appeal.

Each in our appointed place,

the 3 brothers

eating as fast as possible,

half-standing, and reaching across

like hungry frat boys

competing for food.

While the dog would pounce on anything dropped,

zeroing-in

on the most soft-hearted,

staring up

with imploring eyes.

We talked about the news,

freely interrupting

talking over each other

stubborn as goats.

But I, the youngest, could rarely get in a word.

Perhaps this is why I’m not a good listener;

that for too long

I had to button my lips,

felt my opinions

carried no weight.

Now, I eat alone

in front of a screen

and talk to myself;

the dogs

beside me on the couch,

the food

substantial enough,

but hardly prepared

with my mother’s care

let alone skill.

A democracy of one.

No table.

No formal occasions.

No one to hear

what I have to say.

Although the dogs are good listeners,

looking at me blankly

and cocking their heads

but never talking back.

They’ve been taught not to beg

and sleep, mostly,

sprawled on the couch with me.

While I, chairman of the board, preside,

squeezed into a corner

a plate on my knees

watching.

The TV does all the talking.

No one interrupts.